


Don't Believe Everything you Read

by fingersfallingupwards



Category: Guardians of the Galaxy (Movies), Guardians of the Galaxy - All Media Types
Genre: BAMF Peter, Denarian Saal is not dead, Gen, Kink Meme, Post-Movie(s), fight me
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-05-30
Packaged: 2018-07-11 06:09:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7032400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingersfallingupwards/pseuds/fingersfallingupwards
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Kink Meme: The rap-sheet for 'petty theft' was wrong. </p><p>BAMF!Peter who's a master thief.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Believe Everything you Read

**Author's Note:**

> For gotg:kinkmeme
> 
> Denarian Saal never died because I said so.
> 
> Forgive inaccuracies in the story, fictional creatures, and the writing....

Nova Prime stands before the conference table, eyeing the four officers seated with a stern gaze. Denarian Saal sits on her immediate right, across from Centurion Nihmma, a dark-haired woman with green eyes. Beside Centurion Nihmma is Corpsmen Ruell, zie has dark brown hair with white highlights. In the last chair is Rhomann Dey, whom sits and shifts in his seat. He’s the only one who displays his unsettlement with their late call-in for an emergency meeting. Indeed, Nova Prime knows the circumstances are entirely unusual, as is the strange group she’s assembled here, but these are the quickest minds on his staff, not to mention most creative and often times very lucky. They’ll need luck to pull this next mission off.

“As you all may be aware, there has been tension between the providence of the Adrina System, and Xandar. Peace talks were held this week to see if a trade agreement would be mutually beneficial to the two groups.”

“Pardon my saying so, Ma’am, but aren’t matters of politics meant to be outside of the realm of Nova Corps influence?” Corpsmen Ruell asks.

“You are correct.” Nova Prime dips her head. “However, there recently was a theft that brought forth an impending danger to the stability of Xandar. Princess Xuluthia XII reported that her _____ was stolen while at the embassy.”

The gasps and whispered utterances are expected.

“Her _____?!” Centurion Nihmma restates.

“How could anyone take her _____?” Rhomann Dey asks.

Nova doesn’t have an answer, but their outrage only drives the point home for Nova Prime that they need to collectively get themselves together to solve this before the public catches wind and panic breaks out.

“As they were honored guests at Xandar embassy, the fallout from such a loss can drastically impact the wellbeing of Xandar. We are the best hope at solving this matter as quickly and efficiently as possible.”

She looks all of them in the eyes and, though there is fear and uncertainty, she sees willingness and resolve. For this situation, it is the best she can ask for.

“Do we have any suspects?” Denarian Saal asks.

Despite the jarring revelation a few moments ago, this is the delicate part.

“As you may also know, a second trade agreement is in the works right now between Xandar and the Lonarians, who were also being housed as members of an ambassador’s posse.”

She sees understanding and horror slowly sinking in. Nova Prime sighs inwardly and pushes on.

“Were they housed in the same wing?” Rhomann Dey asks

“Yes…” Nova Prime says. “We have kept a careful eye on all parties, but the palace guards were spread thinly for the recent royal birthday, and it is… possible that a Lonarian accidently made their way into a room and they may have _witnessed_ something occur.”

All her years in politics are being employed right now.

“Did we follow up with the Lonarians?” Corpsmen Ruell asks.

Nova Prime gives a long-suffering sigh.

“The only thing the Lonarians are known better for than their poor short-term-memory and superior echolocation, is their solidarity. To accuse or even investigate any member of their party for theft would not only alienate them away from signing a trade accord with Xandar, but also draw them further in on themselves. Beyond that, there is a decent chance they wouldn’t even remember ‘witnessing’ something,” Denarian Saal says with all the belittling body-language Nova Prime is forcing herself to avoid.

“Where does that leave us?” Rhomann Dey says. “If we can’t interview them, then what are our options?”

“That is precisely why we have gathered,” Nova Prime replies. “This matter must be attacked with all the swiftness and efficacy the Nova Corps has.”

Spines straighten as her gaze sweeps the room, and she’s pleased to see them looking more determined and proud.

“I will now open the floor for discussion.”

 

+

 

Three hours later, everyone is feeling considerably more irritable, tired and dismayed, but none moreso that Nova Prime.

“For the last time, we cannot risk war with the Lonarians by asking to see their possessions!” Nova Prime says to the now-cowering Centurion Nihmma.

“Mind-reading has been ruled as unethical, as has psychic and emphatic probing,” Rhomann Dey reiterates. “If we can’t ask any of them, look into their clothes, put cameras on their pet lorghops, or request access to their personal rooms, then what do we do?”

“I don’t know,” Nova Prime says, she allows herself a moment of weakness before drawing herself up. “But we _will_ find a way. We must.”

“Wish we could just steal it back,” Rhomann Dey says, almost entirely under his breath.

If Nova Prime wasn’t suffering from a migraine that makes every sound amplified to a painful degree, she would have missed it. As it is, she runs the idea through her mind once, twice, three times before sitting up.

“If we could find a competent enough thief to enter the chambers and search for the item…” she says.

Denarian Saal catches on. “And if they are caught, they’re a third party, not related to Xandar, and a known criminal beforehand. Their word would mean nothing.”

“Wait, I didn’t mean—“ Rhomann Dey starts.

“Perhaps not, but you may well have found the answer to our problem,” Nova Prime says.

“How do we keep them loyal? What’s to stop them from telling the Lonarians that they were hired by the Nova Corps, or worse, if the thief took the _____?” Corpsmen Ruell asks, anxiously drumming hir fingernails on the table.

“Proper collateral will solve nicely for both, I believe. If there is a proficient enough thief, I am certain we can find some info in the past to hold against them or at least discredit their word. If all else fails, I believe we can procure an impressive sum to persuade the thief as well. Carrot and stick.”

All of them seem to be warming up to the idea.

“Now we just need a proper thief,” Nova Prime asks. “Preferably in a nearby quadrant.”

“Those have never been in short supply,” Denarian Sal adds as he pulls up a long list of known thieves in Xandar currently.

 

+

 

It turns out, that finding a thief near enough to the quadrant is the least of their problems.

“How is it that no one has stolen from the Lonarian’s in the past three thousand years?” Nova Prime demands.

“I knew their echolocation was impressive, but this is just…” Corpsmen Ruell shakes hir head.

“Why does it need to be a good one? If they get caught, we can merely point out their criminal record,” Centurion Nihmma ventures. Her previously pristine dark hair has amassed an unflattering amount of flyaways over the past five hours.

“Because, they have a tendency to execute their criminals within a few minutes before they forget, and I would like some correspondence as to whether or not they located Princess Xuluthia’s _____ and where it is. Best case scenario we should be aiming for, is for them to retrieve the _____ and return it to us.”

“That may not be something we can manage…” Centurion Rihmma says eventually.

There’s a silence where all of them are frustrated and no one likes each other very much anymore. That’s when Rhomann Dey proves himself to be the most unexpectedly valuable player for the team once more.

“Wait, look here.” Rhomann Dey swipes up from his small hand monitor to bring the contents of the screen to the main display.

An article from a freelance galaxy journalist appears on the screen. The main headline is about the election in Persie XIII, but one of the subheadings reports a pendent valued at a million units being stolen from a Lonarian ambassador party on a nearby sun system.

“Maybe the Lonarian fortress is impenetrable, but in the last fifteen years, someone has been able to steal from them at least once from outside of it,” Rhomann Dey says.

“Do we have a hint as to whom it was?” Nova Prime asks.

“The common consensus is that it was Ji-sei Jemz,”

“Who?”

“He’s an infamous ghost thief, at least in the criminal underground. They say there isn’t a species in existence he hasn’t stolen from,” Denarian Saal says with a doubtful look. “That obviously would include the Lonarians, but Ji-sei Jemz is a myth nothing more.”

“It’s true though!” Rhomann Dey immediately replies.

“This ‘Ji-sei- Jemz’…. where does he operate?” Nova Prime asks, interrupting their glaring.

Rhomann Dey shifts. “Well, uh, since he’s a ghost thief no one really knows, but it’s said he used to deal regularly with the Ravagers. At least, we know they had contact with them because they tend to be the ones to fence the stuff he’s supposedly stolen.” He skims over his personal screen. “That includes the pendant,” he says at length, showing them a pawn shop’s receipt for the pendant.

“This plot of deplorable scumbags only seems to thicken as we go in,” Denarian Saal says.

Nova Prime will certainly agree to that, but it’s a thread of hope amidst a sea of dead ends. And as time ticks down, it’s becoming their best bet.

“We will proceed.”

“Ma’am, the Ravagers are notoriously tight-knit,” Centurion Nihmma says.

“Hail the _Milano_. We’ll use them as an intermediary to contact the Ravagers. If we keep the details of the situation a secret, hopefully the Guardians won’t take matters into their own hands and start a war.”

“Are they even amenable to each other?” Rhomann Dey asks.

“To my understanding, there is no longer an outstanding bounty on Peter Quill’s head from one Yondu Udonta, so we should assume they are on somewhat decent terms,” Nova Prime replies.

“Is that what that means?” Corpsmen Ruell asks quietly.

“For Ravagers? Quite possibly.” Denarian Saal replies.

“Get to it. Now!” Nova Prime snaps, and is pleased to see the conference room empty in less than a minute.

 

+

 

Peter Quill is jiggling his leg anxiously as they wait at the Nova Corp headquarters. It’s not that being hailed by an official, government military force is all that intimidating to Peter, it’s just that there is about 90,000 units worth of illegal cargo hidden in the smuggling cupboards on the _Milano_.

But the Xandarian forces have very determinedly requested their help. With a tractor beam. And an 90,000 unit incentive. This of course, would not be problematic for law-abiding, normal space-travelers. But the Guardians are neither law-abiding nor normal, which he likes to think is why they’re being hailed down. With a tractor beam.

His concern was confirmed when they were directly escorted to Nova Prime’s office, whom then proceeded to explain exactly what the emergency is, and why it equals the end of the galaxy somehow.

Rocket pointed out, multiple times, most verbally, that the end of Xandarian society doesn’t mean that much to the Guardians. Gamora immediately nudges him every time he says it, and Groot manages to vocalize his own reply and Drax asks about whatever Rocket used as a metaphor this time and Peter just feels tired. And anxious. He really wants to get the hell out of here.

It’s not that they’re being held captive, it’s just that Nova Prime brought them to the ground to personally request something of them. It turns out they want Peter to arrange a meeting between him and Yondu for 90,000 units. Why? He doesn’t know. But he also doesn’t care that much because they can leave after they do this short favor. This whole situation makes his skin itch though. He’s going to have to talk to Rocket to see if they can make the _Milano_ less susceptible to tractor beams.

Peter messaged Yondu and got a short message Yondu sent straight to his mailbox.

The meeting is happening, and Peter is going to be an intermediary for reasons he wishes didn’t exist.

As they do, he’s sitting with the rest of his team and the five Nova officers (including Nova Prime, dear lord) and the best he can do is grit his teeth and bare it.

The screen chimes with an incoming call.

“Answer,” Nova Prime says.

The screen pops on to show the cockpit of the Ravagers it’s just Yondu in the captain’s seat and Kraglin standing behind.

“Well met, Yondu Udonta,” Nova Prime says.

“Nova Prime. To what do I owe this distinct pleasure?” Yondu drawls. Peter’s actually pretty curious too.

Nova Prime jumps straight to it. “We are after the location of a known criminal. We have evidence that the two of you met in the past to share fenced goods.”

Peter frowns. While the Ravagers do sometimes deal with outsiders, for more personal trading they remain a largely insular group. He wonders if maybe it was someone who joined after he left Yondu, but that doesn’t seem too likely.

“I don’t know why they’d be fencing goods for us, we don’t deal with things like that,” Yondu flat-out lies. “Having said that, with a proper incentive, I’m sure I could try to remember an occasion or two in the long past of the Ravagers.”

“100,000 units,” Nova Prime immediately replies. “One half now, the other half if we find your mysterious fencer.”

Peter has to respect Nova Prime if only for her impeccable bartering. 100,000 is a tempting amount, but 50,000 seems barely worth the effort. Splitting the two makes it likely the Ravagers will be honest with her. On the other hand, she’s kind of a prick for giving the Ravagers more than Peter and his crew. He’ll take that up with her later.

“Hm, well, let’s see this 50,000 and I’ll tell you whether I know the name or not. Beyond that, I ain’t keen on being held accountable for whether you can locate this criminal or not. I’ll do what I can to get in contact with them and inform them of your interest. And I’m sure there is a reward to be had for them as well?” Yondu asks.

“Yes.”

She gives no hint to the number. Nova Prime is phenomenal.

“Fair ‘nough. Send the credits along.”

After a few moments of logistics, Yondu looks at his account on his handheld screen and lets a smile creep over his face. Well then, who is it yer after?”

“A thief named Ji-sei Jemz.”

Peter feels his stomach drop out from under him. On screen, Kraglin starts laughing for a long moment, even Yondu looks startled by the request. His eyes flicker to Peter, and Peter knows his own face is too shocked to pretend he had any idea what was going on. That gets Yondu smiling again.

“We know the request is broad, but to our understanding, there is hardly another answer,” Nova Prime says stiffly, clearly misinterpreting. “He’s said to be the best known.”

Peter wants to bury his head and stop existing for a while because he kind of knows this is going to end badly. As it is, he stands slowly and begins edging towards the exit. His crew looks at him curiously, but Peter keeps his eyes on the screen.

“I will say I ain’t never known a better thief,” Yondu muses, ignoring the fact Kraglin is barely keeping it together.

“You do know this Je-sei Jemz?” Nova Prime says.

“Oh, you could say that he’s practically family.”

Nova Prime nods. “We are fully willing to pay the other half if you can give us a way to contact.”

“No, no, let us do the contacting,” Yondu says with a smile that sets Peter’s hair on end. He isn’t moving fast enough.

“This is a rather time sensitive matter,” Nova Prime replies.

“Not to worry. We’ll be quick as wind,” Yondu says.

A long pause.

“Very well. Get back into contact when you have the information.”

“There’ll be no real need for that,” Yondu says. Then he does the thing Peter’s been dreading and avoiding for the past five minutes. “Quill, Nova Prime’s got a job queued up fer you. They wanted me to drop you a line. You game?”

Yondu then turns back to a stunned Nova Prime.

“I’ll be taking those units now.”

 

+

 

Nova Prime stares at the half-Terran whose face is as red as an exploding star. Peter Quill slinks back to the screen stiffly and retakes his seat. Nova Prime stares at Yondu Udonta. There is no way.

“Your seriousness in this matter would be appreciated, and your immaturity is not,” she says sternly.

“Lookit that, Kraglin, they don’t believe us,” Yondu’s smile is a tad too large for Nova Prime.

“Their loss,” Kraglin replies.

“Peter Quill has been caught for nothing more than petty theft on multiple occasions, you want us to believe he is a galaxy-known ghost thief who has stolen billions of units worth of material?” Denarian Saal demands.

“When you say it like that…” Kraglin muses. He’s still smiling. “But you remember that diadem from the royal family in the Clondlieke system? That was all Quill.”

“And the platinum record of planet history from Luzzzubecksia? That was an interesting one,” Yondu nods, as though these precious, missing heirlooms are merely passing fancies.

“You expect us to believe this?” Denarian Saal sneers. “You attempt at getting more credits is beyond pathetic.”

Yondu’s smile grows wider. “Gimme a second.” He reaches over the screen for something and pulls out a silver mongoose with eyes that glimmer like—

“The Sun-Jeweled Mongoose,” Rhomann Dey utters. “But the people of Suzuraita said it was taken by God as punishment for their wicked ways!”

“Oooh, lookit that, boy. They calling you a god.” Yondu’s speaking to Peter. “Got this for Father’s Day, now didn’t I?”

“Father’s Day?” Nova Prime echoes.

“It’s a Terran holiday, and about the cutest most pathetic thing I e’er seen.”

Peter groans and buries his head in his hand.

“Can we not talk about that?! I was fourteen, I didn’t know that Father’s Day wasn’t a thing. Not like I was by many families! Besides, it was more of a mentor thing,” Peter replies defensively.

“You were fourteen?” Gamora says, revealing that all of the Guardians are similarly bamboozled and doubtful.

“Exactly, I wasn’t in the best mind for making decisions about whether you were a _mentor_ or not,” Peter lifts his head a little to sneer before putting it back in his palms.

“I like to keep this on my dash, just to remember the look on yer face when you realized _how_ valuable it was.” Yondu cackled.

“Isn’t this one from that other war planet?” Kraglin says, pulling another item from above the screen.

“Ooh, Joplan XII? Yer right.” Yondu twirls the crystal knife in his hands.

“The Dagger of Past Lives.” Corpsmen Ruell looks fit to pass out at any moment.

"The Dagger of Past Lives. Another keeper.” Yondu smiles. “They're worth a lot of units, but Peter’s face when I told him what they were worth was just too much, so I like to stick ‘em on my dashboard as a reminder.”

“Peter had a hard time evaluating the value of things when he first starting theivin.’ We ate real well for those five years,” Kraglin says.

“These are just the ones we kept,” Yondu says. “Ain’t even halfway through the list. But that’s neither here nor there. Wire us those Units.”

Everyone is stunned, and Peter Quill still has his face buried in his hands. Eventually, Nova Prime stiffly nods and sends the other credits over. The call is cut off and there is a long silence.

Nova Prime finally asks the question everyone is wondering.

“Mr. Quill, is this accurate?”

“How important is this mission again?” Peter asks. As she stares, he elaborates, “It may have weight in my answer.”

“Critically,” she replies.

“Then maybe.”

Nova Prime scowls. “I need more than that. I don’t suppose there is time for a demonstration, but I am unwilling to place the fate of the world into your hands when I have no proof!”

“Hang on, you were going to do that anyways with that Jei-si Jemz person!” Rocket points out. “He’d be a complete stranger.”

“Since it is Peter, you do not trust him?” Gamora asks. Her eyes slit and Nova Prime is entirely unamused to see her posture shift into something more aggressive.

“I am Groot.”

“I too question how much you value our team right now,” Drax rumbles.

“Ji-sei Jemz is said to be legendary, and your rap-sheet leaves much to be desired in terms of skill,” Denarian Saal points out.

“Okay, first off, it’s pronounced ‘Jesse James.’ Second, my rap-sheet is small because I never get caught! Except for a few small things when I was first starting out. Finally—“ Peter slams his hand down on the table and removes it to show a small platinum ring. “This.”

Nova Prime frowns. “What is—“

“Is that my ring?!” Denarian Saal shouts. He picks it up and looks carefully at the inscription in the band.

“When did this go missing?” Rhomann Dey asks.

“It didn’t. I had it when I entered this room! It was _on my finger!_ ”

Peter Quill has the audacity to shrug. “I kinda liked it. I was going to ask Rocket to melt it down into something cool.”

Rocket perks up “All those time you asked me to smelt things, it was things you stole?”

“I mean, not every time, more like half… well, maybe three fourths of the time. Yeah, three fourths.” Peter Quill nods.

There’s a long pause.

Then Gamora chuckles and Groot shifts his branches merrily.

“I have gained so much respect for you, Quill,” Rocket says.

“As have I,” Drax proclaims.

“Nothing like a little thievery to bring us together. So!” Peter claps his hands together. “Does all this get covered under the fact that my record was expunged, or should I start running now?”

Nova Prime stares at him for a long long moment until she realizes he and his whole crew have begun edging towards the door. Individually, the movements would be subtle, but since it was a united shift, the evidence is as comical as it is damning.

“I’ll settle on 40,000 units,” she says.

“No deal.” Gamora shakes her head.

“That’s all you’re getting out of us.” Nova Prime is firm on this matter.

Rocket scoffs. “How about the 300,000 units you were probably gonna bribe Ji-sei Jemz with and we stop this treaty-collapsing thing.”

“Jesse James,” Peter Quill corrects.

“40,000 plus the initial 90,000 for getting us into contact with the Ravagers, and also, we forgo our check into your ship’s cargo,” Nova Prime counters.

The entire crew of the Milano exchange glances and raised eyebrows and shifts of the head until Peter Quill sighs.

“What am I stealing again?”

 

+

 

A day and three hours later, the _Milano_ is finally leaving Xandar far behind it. They’re going to have to push the ship to make their drop-off on time, but with Rocket’s new additions to the engine, Peter thinks they’ll pull through. His crew has been a little quiet since he disappeared from their joined room at night and slunk back in the morning with the Princess Whatever’s _____. (Why anyone would want to steal her _____ is still a mystery to Peter.) He knows that the con wasn’t supposed to happen until the next day, after Nova Prime gave him a full brief and devised some plan and picked his brain for all his tricks, but Peter isn’t about that life. So he took matters into his own hands.

It was kind of too simple.

If there’s one thing Peter’s been good at his entire life, it’s observation. Being in space surrounded by a bunch of aliens not totally against eating him taught him to be quick about it, and to use his observations against them. So when he meets a new species, it’s sort of like a game to him, figuring out their weaknesses.

The Lonarians are a mismatched evolutionary creation. Blind as bats, superior echolocation, and a terrible grasp of short-term memories. What even happened?

After visiting them on a sun system during a Ravager’s mission over ten years ago, he watched them move around with their echolocation. The Lonarians have big long trunks like elephants, and they emit a unique warbling to sense where they are. A common joke is that if they didn’t check so often, they’d forget where they were because of their atrocious memory.

It struck him, at some point, that there is actually a pattern to their seemingly random warbling.

He snuck into a space opera one night to see what all the fuss was about (it really wasn’t very impressive), and it was the same night the party of Lonarians were visiting. It made the entire thing that much funnier, because during the soloist’s parts, a bunch of warbling would start up from the Lonarian sections.

Peter laughed at the time and a nearby Lonarian immediately warbled back. Peter paused, processed, and then waited for a silent space in the opera to laugh again. Warbling sprang up, and Peter figured out that after establishing a space, the Lonarians only use their echolocation again when things appear to have changed, that being when sound is made.

Peter tests his theory that night by nicking a pendant off one of their party members that night with his stealth boots and breathing restrictor. He moves against the walls, waiting for five minutes at a time before risking moving along a little more. After five minutes, they tend to have forgotten where everything else is, so when they next check, Peter’s existence as a decoration is not notable, so long as he moves slowly and quietly. It’s quite the process, but he’s also quite successful.

As for the locket, well, he thought it was pretty, and it would be hard to take, so he took it.

Upon presenting it to Yondu, he was then told that the party of Lonarians were all nobles and Peter had (again) nicked a priceless heirloom.

Yondu hung it above the console to taunt Peter for the next few months before pawning it off.

These are the little things that he never really means to keep quiet, but chooses to forget at times. He also likes it when people underestimate him. And it isn’t until now that he reaches a point where he doesn’t want people under or overestimating him, where he finds a group of people who he wants to see him as he is.

So when his crew looks at him wary, and excited and surprised, he submits with a small smile.

“You are not a petty thief,” Gamora states.

“I’m petty and a thief, but no, not a petty thief,” Peter answers.

“I get why you’d keep something like that off the record for the Novas, but isn’t infamy your thing, _Star-Lord,_ ” Rocket mocks him.

“Star-Lord is a legendary out-law,” Peter replies. “He’s not a thief.”

“Jesse James is your pseudonym in this case,” Drax surmises.

“That’s an even longer story,” Peter says.

“I am Groot.”

Peter blinks and then smiles.

“Go ahead,” Rocket echoes.

“My mom used to tell me stories about the wild west…”

 

+


End file.
